The Unexpected Gift of Joseph Bridgeman (The Downstream Diaries Book 1) Read online

  I nod. She’s right of course. Time is ticking and if my maths homework is correct, tomorrow morning Alexia Finch is going to be clicking her heels three times and flying the hell out of here.

  Behind my back, I have crossed my fingers. Mainly wishing her to help me, but also praying that nothing goes wrong.

  10.

  We agreed that Alexia should stay the night. She bought a huge carry-all bag that almost made me to ask if she was moving in for good, but I’m getting better at not saying the first thing that comes into my head. She slept in the spare room, on a camp-bed, just in case her time jump came earlier than predicted. I spent the night expecting to hear her scream but it was quiet. I checked in on her every hour, part of me expecting her to be gone, but each time she was asleep, chest moving silently.

  It’s 8 a.m. I knock on the door and enter the spare room and know instantly that it won’t be long. She’s up and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. I notice dark patches of sweat lining her neck and armpits. Her face is red and blotchy and there’s a thin layer of sweat beading on her brow. She’s pacing the room, eyes wide and hollow looking. ‘It’s started,’ she winces, ‘the pain in the base of my skull, just like you said it would.’

  I nod. ‘It’s going to be alright,’ I assure her, ‘we’re nearly there.’

  I’m aware that she could flicker out of existence at any moment but I remember how that pain started in the base of my skull, just as she describes, and how it moved. I estimate an hour, maybe less, but find I want to try and keep her in the centre of the room. Somehow it feels like the safest place, like an island surrounded by sharks. I walk to the bed and lean down, preparing to drag it from the room. ‘Arghhh,’ I groan, my lower back biting.

  ‘Are you alright?’ Alexia asks.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I grumble, pulling the bed, ‘just paying the price for kidnapping you.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The police,’ I reply, shoving the bed from the room and stopping to rub the base of my spine. ‘My arrest.’

  She nods, ‘Oh, yeah.’ But I can tell her mind is elsewhere.

  ‘Alexia,’ I say slowly, ‘something you said yesterday has been on my mind.’ I bite the corner of my mouth. ‘What did you mean when you said I didn’t need to worry about the police anymore?’

  She swallows, wraps a blanket around herself and pulls it tightly to her chest, ‘I’m kind of busy being in pain right now.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I offer, lamely. ‘It’s just it’s been bothering me, what did you mean?’

  She sighs, staring at the floor. ‘I just thought, if I’m going back in time then I could…’ She pauses and shrugs. ‘I could fix some of it.’ Her eyes meet mine. ‘I mean, I could, couldn’t I?’

  ‘No,’ I warn her. I suspected this might be the case and Mark’s words are ringing in my ears. ‘You mustn’t change anything.’

  She scowls, her head back. ‘Well, that’s rich coming from you,’ she snaps.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You’re just a little high and mighty all of a sudden,’ she sneers, wincing in pain, ‘for a Lottery winner, I mean.’

  She’s in pain, she’s angry and I’m telling her what to do. Good work, Joe. Women love that. I adjust my tone, ‘Look, I’m just telling you what my friend Mark said, he’s the one who helped me figure this out.’ I step towards her. ‘He told me to be very careful about changing things, said I had been reckless.’

  ‘Alright,’ Alexia relents, her shoulders crunching up, eyes tightening in pain. ‘Alright, Joe.’ Her whole body contracts and I realise she’s having to fight not to cry out. ‘I’m scared,’ she whimpers, ‘this feels wrong.’

  I stare back at her, helpless. I have applied a very basic knowledge of the rules of time-travel and assured her that she’s going to be fine, dragged her – literally – into this mess and now look at her. How do I know she’s going back to the 23rd? I can’t know that. Alexia curls herself up in a ball and I suddenly feel like I’m in a dream. Like I’m a trainee doctor left alone in a ward with an injured patient and no idea how to help them.

  ‘Joe!’ Alexia cries out, pulling the blanket tightly around herself and dropping to her knees.

  Jump to it, Bridgeman, my mind shouts, like some kind of Sergeant Major. The baby’s coming man! His voice barks. Look sharp!

  ‘Christ.’ It’s my turn to whimper because that’s exactly what this reminds me of.

  Alexia screams, and I mean properly. She howls, head tilted back, her slender neck straining. Her head flicks forward again and she stares at me, eyes bulging, and for a moment I think she’s going to explode. She gasps, preparing to scream again, but then suddenly and unexpectedly she becomes calm, as though we have entered the eye of some terrible storm and it’s beautifully serene. ‘That’s strange,’ she whispers, sweat running from her brow.

  ‘What is?’ I ask, shaking.

  ‘The room,’ she murmurs, eyes moving as if following imaginary butterflies. ‘It’s red, it’s all gone red.’

  It’s blue for me, but red for her. ‘That’s normal,’ I assure her. ‘You’re about to go back.’

  She locks eyes with mine, ‘Joe, take my mind off it, tell me again what I have to do?’

  I nod. ‘You buy supplies and then go straight to Mrs Wiggins’ Bed and Breakfast and you stay there until this day comes around again. You hide away. You don’t need to do anything.’

  A tear rolls down her cheek, and she looks at me, lost. ‘I have two brothers you know, one is a doctor, one is a vet.’ She takes a deep, shaking breath. ‘I’m the disappointing one, you know.’

  ‘I doubt that very much.’ I frown. Alexia Finch is many things, but disappointing is not one of them.

  ‘I’m okay.’ She looks confused, hissing the words through gritted teeth, ‘I’m going to be okay.’ She chants it again, over and over, like Dorothy in the wizard of Oz. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.

  Suddenly, she drops to her knees, as if gripped and contorted by unseen hands. It seems the storm is back and it means business this time. I kneel too. I want to take her in my arms, hold her and make it better, but I can’t. If I touch her now, God knows what would happen. I fight my instincts and maintain my distance, watching, helpless.

  ‘Joe!’ She cries out. ‘Joe, listen to me.’

  ‘I’m here,’ I say, continuing to fight the urge to take her hand in mine.

  Her lips pull back and she clenches her teeth. ‘If I don’t make it,’ she pants, like a wounded animal, ‘please tell my parents I love them,’ she hisses, ‘try to explain what happened to me.’

  I open my mouth to tell her not to think that way as she lets out one last scream. Our eyes lock, I see her expression – absolute fear – and then she’s gone.

  I mean: Gone.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen it up close, just a few feet away from where a person just was. Alexia Finch was here. Now, there is just air. I let out a sound, like a dying gasp and roll myself up into a ball.

  What have I done?

  What the hell have I done?

  11.

  I remain, kneeling for a while, panting and staring at the space where her body has just been. She disappeared in an instant but it feels as though the world needs a moment to fully realise she’s gone; like me, it needs time. The dust settles in the end though and the echoes of her spirit fade, eroding from the scene like smoke. I find myself placing my hands together, locking my fingers and praying.

  ‘If there’s a God of time-travel,’ I say, but then stop, curling my top lip. There might be; a Greek one or something. I shrug and continue. ‘Anyway, if there is, or if anyone up there cares about good people, please let Alexia Finch be okay.’ I sigh and mouth a silent prayer, one that doesn’t require words to be heard. The room remains silent. If there is a God he’s wonderfully considerate when it comes to noise pollution.

  I stand and stumble, my head swimming. I feel like I’m going to pass out. The room pinches in my
vision, as though someone has painted it and is pulling the canvas from behind. It snaps back quickly and my temples throb. I stagger, leaning down and placing my hands on my thighs. I breathe, long shaking breaths that feel cold, a creeping, prickly sensation moving over me, like déjà vu.

  ‘It’s a head rush,’ I tell myself, voice weak. ‘Just a head rush.’ It’s not surprising. It’s been a hell of a morning so far.

  There’s a loud knock at the door. Brilliant. Don’t tell me…

  Martin.

  I consider not answering – my default position after all – but know I can’t ignore it. As if to assure me on that point, Martin knocks again. My life was nice and quiet. What the hell happened?

  I jog to the door, take a deep breath and open it. Standing there, smiling under the cover of a large umbrella is Alexia Finch. ‘Hi Joe,’ she beams. ‘It worked, just like you said it would.’

  I feel as though I might pass out again. ‘Alexia,’ I murmur, taking a nervous step towards her, ‘you’re okay.’ My eyes fill but I clench my chest tight against the embarrassment of tears. I reach out and offer my hand and she takes it, she takes it.

  Her face drops with concern. ‘It’s okay,’ she assures me. ‘Joe, it’s all okay.’

  * * *

  Tea is the answer – to almost anything it seems. Although Alexia has bought her own, which I think is a bit weird. But I don’t care, the relief of seeing her is huge, palpable, and it washes over me every time she speaks, like a warm wave.

  ‘When I arrived back the pain and fever stopped immediately.’ She smiles, clearly excited. ‘The strangest sensation isn’t it?’

  I nod. ‘So, when did you arrive?’ I ask. ‘The date I mean.’

  She takes a sip of tea and looks out from my kitchen window onto the garden. ‘The morning of the 23rd.’ She turns back and smiles again, ‘You were dead right about that, top of the class.’

  ‘First time for everything.’ I shrug. ‘So you’ve been back in the present for a while.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nods, ‘A week now.’

  It explains how she can be so calm. She’s had time to adjust, to accept that her time-travelling experience has resolved itself and she is safe. For me, it’s harder. Moments ago I watched her leave my spare room in a harrowing scream of pain. I shake the memory from my mind. She’s here, she’s right in front of me and she’s fine.

  ‘Joe,’ she says carefully. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘So how is Mrs Wiggins?’ I ask, enjoying the distraction of small talk.

  ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ Alexia replies.

  ‘Yes,’ I agree. The thought of Mrs Wiggins’ full English making my stomach grumble loudly. ‘And you managed to stay away from your other self, from your parents?’

  She looks down at her tea and blinks.

  ‘Alexia…’ I say, slowly, nerves jangling up again.

  ‘How is your back Joe?’ She studies her drink, deliberately not looking at me.

  ‘Fine,’ I reply. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  She looks up, defiance in her eyes. ‘The police won’t be a problem anymore.’

  ‘The police?’ I gasp. ‘What have they got to do with anything?’

  Her eyes tighten and she tips her head to the side. She’s looking at me suspiciously, like she used to, back when she thought I was mad and about to take my clothes off.

  ‘I wondered if this might happen,’ she says.

  I cross my arms, utterly flummoxed. ‘Alexia, what’s going on, what do you mean?’

  Her expression shifts and she begins to nod, seeming to finally understand what’s been bothering her. ‘I think you better sit down Joe,’ she says.

  ‘Okay,’ I agree, ‘but you need to tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘I will,’ she leans in towards me, ‘but you might not believe it.’

  12.

  ‘I don’t want you to get cross with me,’ Alexia folds her arms and looks directly at me, ‘but I didn’t do exactly what you said.’ A small grain of panic flares up, somewhere deep in my gut. ‘I did go to Mrs Wiggins and I did stay out of the way...’

  ‘But,’ I offer.

  ‘I couldn’t help it, I didn’t want the police following me anymore, didn’t want my reputation to suffer because of what happened.’

  ‘Alexia.’ My mouth is dry. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’ And that’s when it hits me and my mouth falls open another inch. ‘You’ve changed something,’ I whisper. ‘You’ve changed the past.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nods. ‘But I can assure you, it’s for the better.’

  ‘Déjà Vu,’ I whisper to myself.

  ‘What?’

  I look up, ‘Never mind,’ I reply, convinced the sensation I felt as she left was the universe being re-shuffled like a deck of cards. ‘Tell me what happened.’ I ask.

  ‘I arrived on the morning of the 23rd, just like you said I would.’ She flashes me an easy smile but then chews at the side of her lip. ‘So, I checked into Mrs Wiggins’ Bed and Breakfast, but after a few hours of staring at the wall I couldn’t stand it.’ She frowns and shrugs, ‘So, I made some phone calls.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘The first was to the police to apologise for my sudden disappearance and any trouble I may have caused, and then I called my parents in France. They were harder to convince, but when I told them I was going to catch my flight and join them for Christmas, well that made it okay.’

  ‘But, that can’t be right,’ I say, reeling. ‘You arrived with me on the 25th in the street, I remember it.’ I hiss, desperate to make sense of all of this.

  ‘Yes.’ She nods. ‘That’s right Joe, all of that still happened, but this time, I was prepared.’

  ‘What do you mean, prepared?’

  She hands me a single, folded sheet of paper. I open it and begin to read.

  - - -

  Alexia,

  Joseph Bridgeman is telling the truth. This will be hard for you to accept – it was hard for me too – but it’s imperative that you believe me. He is a time-traveller and you can trust him. On the night of the party, you touched hands, time-travelled with him and were displaced. On the 29th of December you will return safely to the 23rd. In order for this to happen you MUST do the following.

  •DO NOT believe Joseph straight away, he must gradually earn your trust.

  •Tell him to leave you alone (be forceful, accuse him of drugging you - he hasn’t) and return to your house. He will – at some point – come to your house and warn you about travelling back un-prepared and explain that you are in danger. Again, tell him to leave you alone.

  •That evening, you must call him and ask him what he meant about being in danger. He will explain and you must then get very cross, tell him to stop calling you and hang up. Very important that you don’t engage with him yet.

  •Two days later, items you travelled with will disappear. This is an indication that you will also travel back soon. Go to Joseph’s house (it’s raining, you are soaked through, and he takes you in).

  •Allow him to persuade you, but be clear that you are afraid.

  •Stay at his house on the evening of the 28th. You will travel back safely on the morning of the 29th.

  I know this will be hard for you to take in, but I had to change something, an incident that involved the police and our parents, and would only have gotten worse. Please, trust me when I tell you, I changed as little as possible and only for the better.

  Yours,

  Alexia Finch.

  - - -

  ‘We were in a mess,’ Alexia assures me, ‘when we arrived on Christmas Day you were arrested. They suspected you of kidnapping me and other women too.’

  ‘What?’ I snort, still staring at the letter. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Yes, and like I said in the letter, it was only going to get worse.’

  ‘So, you were acting scared,’ I hiss, scowling up at her.

  ‘No,’ she s
naps back. ‘I was scared out of my mind. The first time was very real, the second time was only slightly easier.’

  ‘You remember both?’

  She raises an eyebrow, ‘You know, it’s strange, but yes, it’s like a memory, an event that happened and then happened again, only differently. I remember how it felt both times.’ She shrugs and sighs. ‘Listen Joe, I know you’re cross but you need to focus on the fact that you aren’t under police surveillance anymore. What I did was a good thing.’

  I lose myself for a moment. I have no memory of what she’s talking about, of being arrested and accused. I suppose I should feel relief but it’s hard without the weight of the memories to back it up. Alexia has erased them from my life, from my timeline, and that’s when the penny drops.

  Only the time-traveller can know these things, for everyone else there is only one, single reality.

  I imagine stopping 9/11. If I managed to avert that disaster and then later told someone that both towers of the World Trade Center had collapsed, they would think I was mad. I would be the only person on Earth who knew what it was like to watch them fall.

  I stare at her, ‘You changed the past.’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘but I still completed our loop. Things were a little different but the end result was the same, I still travelled back, except…’ She smiles. ‘This time, there were no police.’ She takes a sip of tea and fixes me with her huge eyes. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t do as you asked Joe, but I was very careful and it worked.’

  I sigh and eventually manage a weak smile. ‘Well, I don’t know any different, I don’t remember being in trouble.’ I ponder this. ‘So, yeah, I guess whatever you did, it worked, it all worked out fine.’ Alexia nods and we sit in silence for a while. She shifts in her seat and it’s obvious there’s something else. ‘Alexia,’ I ask, ‘what is it?’